


The Past Is Weakness

by MercurialTenacity



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Anal Fingering, Anal Gaping, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Begging, Chastity Device, Coercion, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dissociation, Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, Financial Issues, German Gellert Grindelwald, Guilt, Humiliation, Internalized Victim Blaming, Kissing, M/M, Manipulation, Manipulative Gellert Grindelwald, Nipple Play, Nude Photos, Obedience, Objectification, Praise Kink, Prostate Massage, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sex Work, Somnophilia, Subspace, Young Percival Graves, anal stretching, non-consensual photos
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-04 06:56:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14014683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MercurialTenacity/pseuds/MercurialTenacity
Summary: Grindelwald is watching him, amusement mixed with something unsettling in his expression.  His eyes flick down Percival’s body in something disturbingly close to an inspection - perhaps checking that Percival complied with his selection of clothes, or perhaps just picturing the way he’s going to use his toy.  Either way, Percival knows better than to keep him waiting.  Grindelwald has little time for pleasantries, and Percival isn’t here to talk.Or: When Percival is young and struggling he does whatever he has to in order to get by.  Years later his life couldn’t be more different, but everything he’s accomplished is threatened when he runs into Gellert Grindelwald - and his former client is determined to remind him who he used to be.





	1. Chapter 1

Percival turns the hotel key over in his hands, watching the polished plastic glint in the low light.  The only time he ever goes somewhere this fancy is for a client, and he alway marvels just a little at the details; the wall sconces, the marble floors, the crisp uniforms worn by the bellboys.  Percival envies them, having a job like that.

He crosses the lobby quickly, denying himself the chance to gawk and trying not to look too obviously out of place.  The wait for the elevator is too long, and when it finally arrives he keeps his head down and steps inside quickly. A little sigh of relief blooms in his chest when no one else gets in - the long ride would be intolerable with a stranger, trapped with nowhere for their eyes to fall except on him.  He doesn’t want to be noticed here, doesn’t want anybody to remember his face or pay any attention to him at all.

If they looked at him for more than a second, they’d know what he’s here for.

He’s dressed in the clothes Grindelwald requested; tight, dark jeans that sit low on his hips and show off his ass, and a shirt that clings to him and accentuates his slim figure, the open collar hinting at something suggestive.  The wool coat he sent makes him look more daring than he is, with a popped collar and epaulettes on the shoulders, right along with his carefully tousled hair. He even sent a necklace, a silver chain with some shiny geometric pendant just barely visible beneath his shirt.  Grindelwald had sent no underwear.

The clothes makes him look like exactly what he is.

Really, he’s dressed too casually for this hotel.  A room here might just cost more than he does. But Grindelwald gets what he wants, and he wants Percival here and dressed as he is.  He just does what he’s told.

The elevator glides to a stop and chimes as the doors slide open.  Percival glances down one more time at the room number on the card key, and winds his way towards it through the maze of corridors as checks the time quickly, relieved to find it’s still a minute to eight.  He’s right on schedule, just in time to provide Grindelwald’s after-dinner entertainment.

Percival had wanted to refuse Grindelwald this time.  There was something about the man that set him on edge the very first time Grindelwald paid for him, and the things he wanted - or rather, the  _ way _ he wanted them... he’d felt sick by the end.  He’d thought about saying no, that he was already booked or couldn’t do it or just  _ no, _ and saving himself from what’s ahead.

If only Grindelwald weren’t rich.  If only Percival hadn’t gotten another notice last week that his rent was late, creeping ever closer to that deadline where his life falls apart.

He allows himself one final, steadying breath in front of Grindelwald’s door.  Perhaps this time it won’t be so bad. For all he knows it could be like any usual customer, and he can go home after and pay his rent and everything will be fine.

He’s going to be fine.

He slides the card through the electronic reader, and when the light blinks green he pushes the door open.

The room is lavish, though Percival would not expect Grindelwald to settle for anything less.  A suite like this absolutely costs more than he does - it opens into a spacious sitting room complete with an armchair, a sleek sofa, and a flat screen television set above the mantel, the hardwood floor covered by a plush carpet.  The opposite wall is entirely glass and opens onto a balcony overlooking the bright New York skyline, though mercifully the sheer, flowing curtains obscure any potential view into the room. All in all the suite is bigger than Percival’s whole apartment.  There’s no attempt to save space, and that alone speaks to the luxury and expense.

And of course, Grindelwald.  He reclines on the sofa and looks up when the door clicks open, a smile spreading across his face like ink bleeding through paper.  His perfect clothes are rumpled with relaxation, his waistcoat already unbuttoned and his tie undone. He holds a glass in his hand which he swirls lazily before draining it and setting it carelessly aside on the low table.  He is the very picture of decadence, and Percival is just another one of his luxuries.

He swallows hard.

“Percy,” Grindelwald says warmly, beckoning him into the room.  _ “Guten Abend.” _

“Good evening sir.”  Percival bites his lip and ducks his head, knowing that Grindelwald likes him submissive.  Most men do, but Grindelwald especially. “Thank you for inviting me.”  _ Buying me. _

“Of course.  How could I make a trip to New York without seeing my favorite whore?”

Percival barely contains a flinch.  He hates that word -  _ whore. _  Most of his customers don’t want to think about paying him, and that’s fine by Percival.  He doesn’t want to think about being paid. He shows them a nice night, they treat him like a sweet young thing they picked up at the bar, and everybody ends up happy.  

But Grindelwald - Grindelwald  _ likes _ that he’s a whore.  He likes that Percival wouldn’t be here otherwise, that he has the power to make him do whatever he wants just by promising to pay him enough that he won’t get evicted.  Grindelwald could pay his rent for the next six months without noticing the difference, but instead he’ll make Percival beg and debase himself just to make ends meet, and he’ll do it because he enjoys it.  

Percival has the awful suspicion that Grindelwald would choose to pay for sex over having it offered freely just because he likes the power.  The power, and the ability to treat him like a toy without consequence. Grindelwald talks about him the same way he would a favorite restaurant or a local wine; another piece of entertainment for the evening, an attraction to fill up his time with.  

Yet something still stirs deep inside him -  _ Favorite. _ He’s Grindelwald’s favorite.  He hates that the thought brings him any warmth at all.

Grindelwald is watching him, amusement mixed with something unsettling in his expression.  His eyes flick down Percival’s body in something disturbingly close to an inspection - perhaps checking that Percival complied with his selection of clothes, or perhaps just picturing the way he’s going to use his toy.  Either way, Percival knows better than to keep him waiting. Grindelwald has little time for pleasantries, and Percival isn’t here to talk. 

He crosses the room and kneels by the couch so that he can press his lips to Grindelwald’s in a proper greeting, keeping his mouth soft and loose as he flicks his tongue out to tease.  He parts his lips invitingly, making a small, needy moan and looking up with wide eyes before ducking his head in again, brushing their lips together and running his tongue over the seam of Grindelwald’s mouth, doing his best to be pliant and eager.

Grindelwald makes him work for it.  With a small hum he turns his head away, but Percival knows what he wants.  He whines, kissing Grindelwald’s jaw because he can’t reach his mouth and pressing adoring kisses to his skin, licking and gently sucking wherever he can reach.  Grindelwald wants him needy and desperate for a kiss, so that’s what Percival is.

As a rule, Percival doesn’t kiss his clients.  But after Grindelwald pinned him down and stole a kiss from him that first time, it was easier to just do it than to argue.  It doesn't really matter, anyway - it can't be all that more intimate than the rest of what they do, even if it makes his stomach flutter and his heart beat a little quicker.  

It's just a kiss.

Eventually he must do well enough.  Grindelwald relents, grabbing Percival by the lapels of his wool coat and tugging him in, taking his balance until he falls against Grindelwald’s chest with a small breath of surprise.  His tongue swirls over Percival’s lips, insistent and searching as he takes control of the kiss, holding the back of his head and pulling him in at just the right angle so that he can lick deeper into his mouth.  It's hot and liquid, better than it should be when Grindelwald sucks on his lip, when he swirls his tongue and bites, gently, spurring a rush of sensation that makes Percival gasp. His mouth goes slack, allowing Grindelwald to open him up and explore him, taste him,  _ claim him. _

By the time Grindelwald finishes with his mouth Percival is flushed and dazed, lips parted and shining wetly.  Grindelwald’s eyes flick over him, and he smirks.

“Ah,  _ Schatzi. _  Take off that coat.”

Percival scrambles to obey, shrugging out of it and laying it over the nearby armchair so it stays clean.  The moment he turns back Grindelwald kisses him again, wet and hot and messy, before drawing him onto the sofa and pushing him down.  Percival goes easily, following Grindelwald’s hands until he’s positioned on his back, arms above his head to expose the line of his chest - Percival rolls his body and is rewarded by Grindelwald’s intake of breath - parting his legs so that Grindelwald can slide a thigh between them and push him down into the cushions.

The warm press of Grindelwald’s body above him makes his eyes slip closed.  His weight is firm, his body strong, and the contact is hard not to react to.  Or it would be, if Percival bothered to try - instead he spreads his legs a little wider, inviting, rolling his hips up at the same time that he breathes out a sigh.  It’s just like being with any other client. No reason to hide his responses, no reason to be shy - clients always want to think they turn him on, and Grindelwald is no different.  

The grip on his wrists tightens, and Grindelwald grinds down against him as he places a kiss on his forehead.

By the time Percival has recovered from the hot flush incited in him, Grindelwald is dragging his hands ever so slowly over his forearms, his biceps, down to his shoulders.  He massages as he goes, squeezing and stroking, until a heavy weight settles into his arms and he has the fleeting thought that he doesn’t ever want to move again.

It’s easy to keep his hands where they were put while Grindelwald touches him.  That long, slow stroke continues down to his sides, fingers grazing the bump of each rib before coming to rest on his small waist and squeezing possessively.  He makes a little noise of appreciation and rocks his hips beneath Grindelwald’s weight, squirming in eagerness. It’s not a complete lie; it does feel good to be touched, even if it’s just the first stirrings of warmth.  Even if he’d rather it not go further, not with this man.

Grindelwald chuckles at his apparent neediness, rubbing his thumbs into the soft dip at his waist and drinking in the way he squirms and presses forward in response.  Grindelwald splays one hand on his belly, the better to feel each shuddering breath, while the other travels up the lines of his body; following the gentle curve of his ribs to his sternum, tracing his collarbone before dipping back down to squeeze his pectoral, fingers dancing across his body and leaving him weak.

His other customers don’t bother with this, and why would they?  Percival is there to make them feel good, not the other way around.  But Grindelwald loves to see him fall apart. He softens him up with pleasure and then digs into him, rending him to his core to expose the most intimate parts of his being so he can play.  

It’s going to happen again tonight.  Grindelwald will take him apart piece by piece, and Percival will let him.  He doesn’t stand a chance, Grindelwald knows just how to make his body react and there’s nothing he can do but make sure to let Grindelwald hear his little gasps each time his fingers find a sensitive spot.

Grindelwald’s fingernail catches on his nipple, and Percival’s body jerks.

_ “Gefällt es dir?”  _ Grindelwald murmurs, and Percival shivers and pants as Grindelwald flicks his finger back and forth over that sensitive nub.  It hardens quickly under the attention, drawing up tight and making a little bump under his shirt. He rolls his head side to side, breathless.

The pleasure sinks into his chest, running hot through his veins.  His cock is already starting to stir, twitching with interest as the warm, shivery sensation blooms in him.  Percival lets his enjoyment show. It's exactly what Grindelwald wants, it's what he's here for.

He makes a little mewl of protest when Grindelwald stops playing with him, shifting on the sofa to chase the sensation.

“Ah-ah,” Grindelwald reprimands.  “Hold still, sweetheart. Don't you dare move.  Not an inch.”

Percival stills, but he doesn't understand - this is new, Grindelwald hasn't played this game before.  Does he really want him to hold still? Or to act so overcome with need that it's impossible?

If Grindelwald notices Percival’s confusion at all, he gives no indication.  With sure fingers he undoes the buttons on Percival’s shirt, slipping them free one by one and gazing down appreciatively at the bare skin it reveals to him.  Percival’s chest is smooth, his skin soft, and Grindelwald opens his shirt wide to expose it. One finger runs down the center of his chest, and Percival breathes in deeply as he arches up to meet it -

Grindelwald’s touch vanishes.  Percival looks up at him, trying to read his intentions, but his face is a mask of amusement.

“...Sir?” he asks, tentative.  He’s trying to give Grindelwald what he wants, he just - he doesn’t know what that is.

“Do as I say,  _ Schatzi,” _ Grindelwald tells him.  He taps Percival’s cheek lightly with his palm - a reminder, and a warning.   _ “Ja?” _

Percival nods quickly, eager to please.  He forces himself to sink back down onto the sofa, body loose and relaxed for Grindelwald’s pleasure even as confusion buzzes in the back of his mind.  It doesn’t seem like it would be very pleasing for him to just lay there, he should be enticing Grindelwald to fuck him or sucking his cock or at least making a show of how much Grindelwald turns him on, not making him do all the work.  As certain as Grindelwald seems in his orders, Percival can’t shake how strange it feels to let himself be taken care of by a customer.

But in the end it doesn’t matter whether he understands.  Grindelwald has bought him for the night and he can do as he likes.  So long as he gets what he wants and pays for Percival’s time, that’s what matters tonight.  

And despite the strangeness, some corner of his mind feels almost… glad.  Relieved. There’s no second guessing, no trying to anticipate what he’s supposed to do when he doesn’t have any way to know.  He can focus on what he’s told and do it well, and he just has to trust that Grindelwald knows what he wants. 

Grindelwald repeats his long stroke down Percival’s chest, smiling when he trembles but remains still.  His hunger as he runs his hands over Percival’s body is palpable, and Percival watches him through fluttering lashes as Grindelwald’s eyes flick between his lips, his nipples, and his cock, drinking in each intimate piece of his body.  The urge to squirm twists inside him, to either hide or show off his body on his own terms, but he does neither.

Grindelwald’s fingers find his nipples and he pinches this time, setting off little shocks of pain-pleasure along his nerves.  He’s weak for this, weak for having his nipples played with and tugged and milked, and somehow Grindelwald knows. The pleasure is so deep he can feel it in his bones.

He bites his lip and doesn’t move.

Grindelwald is relentless, alternating between squeezing Percival’s nipples and massaging deep into his chest, working his fingers around his areola and rubbing his thumbs into the tense muscle of his pectorals.  It’s bliss, and it’s torture; any time Percival shifts or presses forward, Grindelwald stops. He takes his hands away and holds back the warm pleasure his fingers provide, waiting for the guilt and apology to flash across Percival’s face.

It’s hard, harder than he thought it would be, and he starts to understand why Grindelwald would want this from him.  All his effort goes into keeping his body still in the face of so much sweet sensation, and god - this isn’t how it should go.  It’s not supposed to be about his own pleasure, and he isn’t used to trying to think through the hazy mess it makes of his mind.  He has to remind himself constantly to hold his position, repeating it to himself until it becomes a mantra of  _ hold still, hold still, hold still, _ blocking everything else out of his mind in a desperate attempt at obedience.  He trembles under Grindelwald’s hands - between the constant effort and Grindelwald’s slow touches, there’s little room in his head for anything else.

“Shh, there’s a good boy.”  Grindelwald’s voice is a low, encouraging murmur.  The little praises he whispers shouldn’t matter, Percival is  _ working, _ but he wants to hear them all the same - he wants the reassurance and the comfort, the validation that he’s being good.

What Grindelwald is doing feels so much more intimate than it has any right to.

“So close, Percy,” Grindelwald breathes in his ear.  “Just relax, you can do it.  _ Komm schon.” _

Percival doesn't know what he's close to.  He doesn't know what Grindelwald wants from him.

Grindelwald doesn’t give him time to wonder, leaning in to flick his tongue across Percival’s lips and make them tingle, wet and good and driving him out of his mind until he parts his lips to silently beg for more.

Grindelwald obliges.  His lips are soft against Percival’s, licking into him deep and slow, sending the room spinning and forcing Percival to scrabble for purchase within his own mind, taking every last thought and leaving him dizzy.  It’s too much, too much to try to understand, and it’s going to kill him if he keeps trying to survive it. Grindelwald’s current is going to drag him under, and he can’t fight it.

Percival does the only thing he can; he lets himself drop.

The tension seeps from his body on a quiet breath, leaving him limp and malleable to Grindelwald’s desires.  He feels buoyant. The pleasure is a golden ocean in which he floats, following the currents and eddies that Grindelwald’s hands create with ease.  He feels odd but so, so good - like the very best parts of being drunk, his body singing with contentment. It’s easy. Grindelwald will tell him exactly what to do.

He drifts like that for a while, mind quiet.  His nipples are puffy and sore by the time Grindelwald is done playing with them, but any discomfort just bleeds right back into pleasure and he barely notices, too deep in sensation to care.

His touch moves lower, hands sliding down his abdomen to stroke his sides and squeeze his waist, making him feel small and vulnerable under his big, warm hands.  Percival sighs, exhaling the last of his tension and melting into the moment, heavy and at peace. 

There’s a tug and a clink as Grindelwald undoes his belt buckle, and then the fastens of his pants, revealing smooth skin and the evidence of his enjoyment.  His cock is starting to fill, nearly half hard just from Grindelwald’s attentions. He palms it gently and a shiver runs through Percival’s whole body - it’s not enough, not nearly enough, Grindelwald is just holding him.  He provides no friction, no pressure, just the warmth of his hand.

Then even that vanishes, leaving Percival’s needy cock to rest against his thigh while Grindelwald rummages for something, and Percival doesn’t understand.  He makes an uncertain little noise in his throat before he realizes it, feeling lost without the rhythm of Grindelwald’s touches and words. He has no cadence to follow, nothing to lose himself in, and he wants it back.

“Oh, little darling.  I’m not done with you yet, don’t you worry.  Look at me.” Percival does, and Grindelwald’s smile is as slow and thick as honey.  “There you are.” 

There he is.  He looks up into Grindelwald’s eyes and he feels safe again, secure and comforted.  Grindelwald’s hand returns to pet his hip and Percival lets himself focus on the touch; the little sparks it sends along his nerves, the heat that pools in his belly, the fuzzy static which fills his mind…

His gaze slips downward, over Grindelwald’s open collar, past his rolled up sleeves, to the glint of silver he holds in his hand.

“I want you to wear this for me,” he says, and Percival frowns in confusion.  He doesn’t understand what it is - some piece of jewelry? Why hadn’t Grindelwald sent it along with the rest of the clothes?  It’s too much to think about and he looks up at Grindelwald for answers, hoping that he doesn’t have to think anything complicated.

Slowly, as though he were revealing something coveted, Grindelwald opens his hand.  Percival has to look for a moment before he understands what he’s seeing - solid metal loops which bend downwards, capped off at the tip and attached to a thick ring.

A cock cage.

Percival’s breath stutters.  He stares at it wide eyed, suddenly dizzy, his thoughts still slow and muted and struggling to adjust.  He’s never done chastity before. His gaze flicks back up to Grindelwald. He doesn’t know what to say. He wants to make Grindelwald happy, but it’s… too much.  He wishes Grindelwald had never stopped stroking him. He’d liked that, he’d liked being kissed and petted, it had been easy.

“I…”

Grindelwald must see Percival’s struggle, because he places a hand back on his lower belly and rubs slow, gentle circles into his skin.  It calms Percival, helping him settle, and after a moment he can’t help but let out a tense breath and sink down again. He still isn’t sure, he doesn’t quite understand, but thinking is a tricky thing.

“Good boy, that’s it, so good for me.  You like being good, don’t you?” he asks.  Percival nods, eyes fluttering closed. Grindelwald’s voice is a low purr as he praises him, his words and his hands working in concert to make Percival melt.  “That’s right. It’s so easy,  _ ja? _  An easy decision.  Be a good boy for me, and I’ll give you a little bonus.  An extra fifty, how does that sound? Just for being good.”

That sounds… really nice.  It’s a relief to be guided, the choice practically taken out of his hands.  He needs the money, if Grindelwald will pay him extra he can’t say no. And anyway, his pleasure isn’t what matters tonight.  He doesn’t usually get off with customers. They rarely care or notice. It’s not all that much to give up; not really, not when he thinks about it.

He nods jerkily, feeling better as the uncertainty lifts.  “Atta boy,” Grindelwald says, and the satisfied smile in his words sends chills down Percival’s spine.

He doesn’t have a chance to second guess; Grindelwald lifts his cock and balls and is already closing a cool metal ring around them before Percival’s thoughts manage to catch up.  It feels strange to be handled like that - it’s perfunctory, almost clinical. His cheeks flush and he squirms slightly, wishing that Grindelwald had let him put the device on by himself.  It would have been less humiliating. Grindelwald adjusts him in the ring, making sure nothing is pinched, and then positions his softening cock to slide the sheath over it.

It’s cold, but it goes on quickly.  His cock curves down to follow the shape of it, his burgeoning erecting halted, and then there’s a little click and Grindelwald sits back with a tiny, gleaming key between his fingers.

Percival looks at him, and he feels as though all the air were being let out of his lungs.  He hadn’t thought about the lock. He’d forgotten that this was a chastity  _ cage, _ and Grindelwald is the only one who holds the key.

Fuck -  _ fuck. _  What has he done?

Grindelwald slips that precious key into his pocket without taking his eyes off Percival’s helpless dick, and his lips spread into a slow, hungry smile.

Percival turns his face away to hide in the sofa cushions.  He feels small and trapped, like a prey animal cornered and being toyed with before the kill.  Grindelwald owns him tonight, and he knows it.

“Look at me,  _ Schatzi.” _

Percival does, because he has to.  Grindelwald’s eyes are treacherous pools of ice, but his gaze isn’t cold; he looks like a man ready to enjoy himself, surveying the indulgence laid out in front of him before diving in whole heartedly.  And for a moment - just a moment - there’s something in his gaze which makes Percival want to run.

It’s gone just as fast.  Grindelwald brushes his thumb over Percival’s lower lip, gripping his chin and turning his head so he can lean down and kiss the side of his neck, his jaw, making his way upwards to mouth over Percival’s earlobe and leaving tingles in his wake.

Percival blinks slowly, making a questioning noise in his throat.  He doesn’t understand how Grindelwald can make him feel hunted and relaxed at the same time, and how even that sparks something warm in his belly.  His head is spinning. He can feel himself slipping down again and he doesn’t know whether he should fight it or embrace it. He doesn’t want to make that decision.

“Sweetheart, you’re lovely like this,” Grindelwald breathes, gaze roaming over him appreciatively.

Percival wriggles, his cheeks heated with a blush.  “Wanna look good for you,” he mumbles. His mind is hazy around the edges, his pulse slowing as he settles back into the comfortable daze Grindelwald seems so good at instilling.

“Go wait in the bedroom for me.”

The order jars him slightly; he doesn’t want to go anywhere, he’d much rather stay here and be kissed and petted and praised.  The haze is so comfortable and makes him so sleepy that moving seems impossible. A tiny, questioning noise forms in his throat as he snuggles down deeper, hoping Grindelwald doesn’t mean it.

But Grindelwald is insistent, squeezing his balls warningly when he doesn’t do as he was told.  Percival whimpers, flushing pink at being corrected like that - so intimately, yet impersonally.  He struggles to prop himself up, clumsy enough that Grindelwald wraps a secure arm around his torso and pulls him in, steadying him against his own body.

There is no room left for disobedience.  Percival looks up at Grindelwald, his eyes cloudy and his tone hopeful as he asks, “Will you come soon?  I wanna be with you sir, please.” The words slur together, sounding strange to his own ears, but he’s more concerned with staying safe under Grindelwald’s authority than enunciating his speech.

Grindelwald chuckles.  “Eager little thing. Go.”

Percival does.  With effort he rises from the sofa, the haze clinging to him and pulling him deeper even when he loses Grindelwald’s touch.  He misses the contact - part of him wants to turn right around and fall into Grindelwald’s arms - but it feels too good to obey, knowing that Grindelwald will be so pleased with him if he does as he’s told.

With unsteady steps he makes his way to the bedroom, already trying to decide how best to present himself for Grindelwald.  He doesn’t want to think too much, but he knows how to make a good image. This is what he’s used to. This is a routine, and he settles into it easily.  There’s no questions, no uncertainty, just making himself pleasing for the man buying his time.

With any luck Grindelwald will follow him soon, and Percival can spend the rest of the night in a cloud of bliss while Grindelwald holds him down and fucks him into the mattress.


	2. Chapter 2

Percival soaks the bedroom in with awe he wouldn’t normally allow himself to feel.  It is just as spacious as the sitting room, all extravagance and luxury; the duvet looks to be silk, the furniture dark mahogany, carefully coordinated to match the heavy curtains and the large rug which fills the room.  Grindelwald has the lights turned low, providing enough illumination to see without strain and yet keep the atmosphere intimate and warm. Standing in this room, it would be easy to mistake it for part of a manor house rather than a hotel, and the effect is slightly unsettling.

He still feels as though his mind were wrapped in a soft, gauzy veil, and it takes him a moment to remember to do anything other than stare.  He doesn’t know how long it will be before Grindelwald joins him, but he has to be ready. Being pleasing for Grindelwald is the most important thing he can do.  Thinking of it makes him feel light, floaty - good. It’s difficult to focus, but fortunately he doesn’t need to think in order to do this well.

He takes a fluffy white towel from the adjoining bathroom without pausing to take in the heated marble floor or the inset bathtub.  Instead he returns to the bed and slips one of the pillows from beneath the duvet. The silk pillowcase catches in the light, making the dark fabric glimmer.  Percival makes a face. He hates silk, he slides all over the place when he’s fucked on it. After a moment’s consideration he pulls the pillowcase off, folds it, and sets it out of the way.  The towel will protect the pillow, and at least now it won’t slide right out from under him.

It only takes a moment to properly undress, and once his clothes are out of the way he climbs up onto that big, luxurious bed.  It flickers through his mind that it’s the kind of bed he could get lost in.

Movements slow and just a little unsteady, he positions the pillow in the center of the bed and lays the towel over it, settling himself so that the pillow props up his hips.  It takes him a minute to get comfortable while wearing the cock cage; any position he tries just seems to make it dig into him, but eventually he manages. Once he’s finally settled he spreads his knees wide, stretching out and arching his back, doing his best to make himself slutty and fuckable.  He wants to make a good presentation for Grindelwald - wants the man to come and press him into the mattress, work him open and using him, take pleasure from him - Percival shivers in anticipation of Grindelwald’s breath against his neck, his hands, his _cock._

He moans and reaches back to finger himself, his entrance already wet and relaxed from the preparation he’d done before leaving for the hotel.  He sinks two fingers inside himself easily, pumping a couple times before adding a third. His hole is still plenty slick inside, making it an easy glide.  It feels good, but he wishes it were Grindelwald doing it; Grindelwald opening him up on his fingers, feeling how wet he is, exploring his insides like it’s his right to do so -

He scissors his fingers, relaxing into the stretch.  With a deep sigh his body settles into the bed, soft and loose-limbed and ready to be played with.  Warm anticipation curls in his belly, thinking about Grindelwald finding him like this - naked, legs spread wide, ass raised and already wet, playing with himself - he feels like a slut, and he doesn’t really mind.

His eyes fall closed since there's nothing for him to look at anyway, and the darkness is a little easier to bare than the empty room.  He wants Grindelwald to come, but he just… he has to let it go. He's waiting here because Grindelwald told him to, so he's doing the right thing.  He just has to settle in and let it happen, trusting that Grindelwald knows what he wants.

Waiting like this makes him feel small.  Small and unimportant. He's a toy, a novelty, just one of an assortment of things with which Grindelwald amuses himself, and his sole purpose now is to wait to be used.

He… he can do that.

Percival’s sense of time eludes him entirely, and he doesn’t know how long it is before he feels Grindelwald behind him on the bed.  

His presence rouses Percival slightly - he’d been drifting somewhere, not asleep but not aware of himself either.  It’s strange coming back to himself, surfacing right into Grindelwald’s control. It’s… nice. The mattress dips with Grindelwald’s weight and Percival shifts, his face creasing.  He’s ready for Grindelwald, ready to serve him if only Grindelwald would tell him what to do, or show him -

A big, warm hand closes over the back of Percival’s neck, pressing him down into the bed, and he relaxes again with a little sigh.

 _“Meine kleine Hure.  Gefällt es dir?”_  Grindelwald squeezes the back of his neck, leaning down to blanket his body over Percival’s prone form.  Percival presses back against him with a whine and rolls his hips invitingly, loving the weight of Grindelwald’s body on top of him, his heat, how he’s kept perfectly in place by his strong grip.  His fingers curl into the duvet in search of an anchor, but Grindelwald notices and seizes his wrist with his free hand, pinning it to the small of his back and squeezing hard enough that it will bruise later.  “Do you like being held down?”

Percival nods and parts his lips in an attempt to speak, but all that comes out is a small, _“...sir.”_

“Oh, baby,” Grindelwald purrs.  “That's okay. I've got you.”

Percival can't tell if the words are a comfort or a threat, and he isn't sure if he cares.  He doesn’t understand this. He doesn’t understand what Grindelwald is doing to him, and how he can feel so good.

Grindelwald releases his wrist, making a small hum of approval when he remains in place.

“So obedient for me,” Grindelwald murmurs, and Percival trembles with the stab of heat the words send flashing through him.  

Grindelwald’s lips find the corner of his mouth, wet and hot and possessive, giving Percival no option but to let himself be kissed.  He turns his head into it, looking for more, but this time Grindelwald denies him. He’s already moving down Percival’s body, running hands over his naked back until he comes to cradle his hips, massaging the base of his spine with his thumbs.  It lights up Percival’s nerves, loosening his tight muscles until he’s feeling warm and cared for, unused to this sort of attention; his customers don’t touch him like this, not with so much affection. Grindelwald feels less like a customer all the time, and some part of his brain warns him there’s something off about that, but mostly he can’t be bothered to care.  Not when he’s relaxed and feeling so good, god, it’s been so long since he’s been with anyone who wasn’t paying and he just wants to keep feeling this way.

Grindelwald’s hands slide lower, all the way down to cup and squeeze his ass, kneading the soft flesh and spreading him wide open.

 _“Scheiße,_ you have such a gorgeous pussy.  Look how eager you are,” he says, circling Percival’s rim with one finger, and his flesh quivers beneath the touch.  He whimpers and tries to hide, but it does him no good - even with his face buried deep in the sheets he’s still achingly aware of each stroke of Grindelwald’s finger over his delicate skin, making his anus tense and tremble as he pets him so intimately.

Grindelwald plays with Percival’s entrance, refusing to penetrate even though Percival could take him easily, even though he bucks his hips backwards to encourage him inside.  Instead Grindelwald presses a thumb over his hole and rubs deep, slow circles that make Percival lose his mind. Pleasure emanates from that spot, spreading down the backs of his thighs and up his spine, making his balls tighten and his dick twitch fruitlessly - it’s leaking between through the cage, dribbling out clear fluid between his legs.  Every nerve in his needy rim is sensitized, lax and soft as Grindelwald massages him, and his insides - his insides _ache._  He’s empty, painfully so, desperately aware of the space in his core which he needs Grindelwald to fill.  He can’t think, laying there boneless on the bed and panting softly, a light sheen of sweat gathering on his skin as his hips rock and sway, longing for more of that glorious pressure against his soft hole.

He’s never been so exposed.  Not like this. Grindelwald has gotten in his head and laid his mind bare, effortlessly stripped away his defences until he’s left malleable and vulnerable, too preoccupied with clinging to the wisps of his thoughts to consider keeping up any sort of charade.  Grindelwald has his soul in his hands, and he’s toying with it.

Without warning Grindelwald dips his thumb in, tugging gently at his rim to gauge his tightness before pressing in up to the knuckle, making Percival’s thighs tremble.

“Such an eager body.  Such a slut,” Grindelwald growls.  “Do you feel how loose you already are?  You’ve just been waiting for this. You’ve needed it, haven’t you sweetheart?”

Percival nods, his breath coming quick and uneven, but Grindelwald isn’t satisfied.  He tugs at Percival’s rim again, and this time it’s sharp and brutal; it’s as though the bed tips sideways, pure sensation bolting up his spine.

“Yes!” he yelps.  “Yes, need it, n-need you, oh yes - please...”

 _“Sei eine gute Hure, ja?  Meine kleiner Schatzi -”_ Grindelwald reaches past Percival to pull something from the drawer in the bedside table, and a moment later he hears the telltale sound of a bottle of lube uncapping followed by wet, obscene noises as Grindelwald quickly slicks himself.

Percival is ready, waiting, and he rocks his hips back to show Grindelwald how eager he is - the wait is unbearable, and he can’t help the tiny, frustrated sound that slips past his lips.  Grindelwald laughs, but instead of finally fucking Percival like he needs he just presses the thick, blunt tip of his cock against his anus and circles it. Sparks flash through Percival’s body as Grindelwald’s cock rubs against him, easing him open so achingly slowly that he wants to cry.

And then - finally, _finally,_ that thick cockhead catches on Percival’s rim and enters him properly.  The first inch sinks inside and Grindelwald groans with it, grabbing his hips and pressing forward, sliding that whole glorious length right into Percival’s center, into his hot, trembling core.

The contrast between Grindelwald’s thick cock and Percival’s own helpless little dick is dizzying, trapped as he is.  The cage prevents him from hardening even a fraction, even though his hips still roll in a futile attempt to grind against the pillow beneath him.  It does nothing to ease the pressure he feels or the heat in his blood. Nothing to ease the arousal building in him, pulling him under with no hope of release.

“You feel so good inside,” Grindelwald grunts.  “So hot and wet - _fuck,_ tighten up around me, there's a good boy, come on -”

Percival does, squeezing around Grindelwald’s length as it enters him, making him groan and his hips jerk forward.  Percival feels every inch of his cock enter him, forcing him open and making a place inside his body. It’s all Percival can do to hold on.  He’s unmoored, with only Grindelwald’s tight grip on his hips to tether his thoughts to any semblance of cognizance.

Above him, Grindelwald pants.  Once Percival has taken his cock fully he circles his hips, seeming to savor the sensation of Percival around him.  He snatches Percival’s wrists, pinning them both to the small of his back with one hand while the other twists into his hair, pressing his face down into the mattress.

Percival hopes, for a moment, that Grindelwald will be gentle.  He has no right to care, he’s just a body for Grindelwald to use, but the praise and soft touches had made him feel… wanted.  Valued, as something worthy of care or affection. His belly tightens at the thought, but he wants to feel that way again. He wants to float, knowing that Grindelwald is in control.  

He wants to give Grindelwald control.

Grindelwald pulls his hips back, and his grip on Percival’s wrists tightens a moment before he slams forward with a brutal thrust.

It shakes Percival to his core, forcing the breath out of him, and by the time he manages to pull in another lungful of air Grindelwald’s next thrust makes him choke on it.  His pace is hard and fast, he would be driving Percival up the bed if he weren’t holding him down, and the room resounds with the wet slap of flesh against flesh. The rhythm is too demanding for Percival to keep up; all he can do is lay there and take it while Grindelwald pounds into him, fucking him loose and sloppy.  He can’t control the noises he’s making, each thrust forcing a broken cry out of him until all he can hear are his own sobs of _ah, ah, ah,_ his body rocking in time with Grindelwald’s ruthless thrusts.

There’s no question that this is for Grindelwald’s pleasure and not his own - each thrust is brutal, vicious, nothing like his teasing.  It’s as though he’d held back a storm, unleashing it now that his patience has ended. Percival had thought… he’d thought maybe Grindelwald would fuck him slow, deep, murmuring filth into his ear while he squeezed his throat, body blanketing him - but this is brutal, and impersonal, and nothing like that at all.

He doesn’t know how long it is before Grindelwald finishes, too dazed and lost to keep track.  He just feels the final deep thrust when Grindelwald buries his cock inside him, moaning while he fills him with come.

“Good boy,” Grindelwald pants.  “Good _fucking_ boy, you just take it so well.  The perfect little fuck toy -” Grindelwald breaks off to roll his hips one last time before pulling his softening cock out with a grunt.  

It leaves Percival feeling wet and used.  Come leaks past his rim and drips down toward his balls, Grindelwald’s release slowly trickling over his own impotent dick.  It feels like a mockery. He tries to close up his ass, but he feels wrecked. There’s no way he’s actually gaping, he’s taken harder fucks from bigger cocks and he knows what his body can do, but he feels so loose and open that he wants to hide in shame.

Grindelwald pats his ass in appreciation, but Percival doesn’t react.  He lays limp, unmoving even when Grindelwald’s weight leaves the bed. He wishes his mind would work.  He wishes Grindelwald would come back and hold him and ease the churning knot of shame and hurt in his stomach.

He hears Grindelwald moving around, the closet door opening, and then footsteps returning to the bed - maybe they’re not done after all.  It doesn’t really matter. He’ll just do whatever he’s told.

Grindelwald sits by his head, resting a hand in his hair and stroking softly.  Percival makes a tiny movement to nuzzle into it, and is rewarded by Grindelwald’s fingers caressing his scalp.  It feels good. Safe. Percival sighs, relaxing into the comfort he so desperately needs.

“That’s it.  Such a good little slut for me.  You know just what you’re for, don’t you?”

Percival nods, careful not to dislodge Grindelwald’s hand.

“And you like it.  You were born to be a whore darling, you’re a natural.”

Percival squirms a little at that, but he manages to breathe a soft “Thank you, sir,” in reply.  Grindelwald is right. He’s a good whore, and it’s all he’ll ever be.

“Aw, pet.”  Grindelwald brushes a thumb across his cheek, wiping away tears.  Percival hadn’t even realized he was crying. “You’re so pretty like this.”

Percival knows he’s not.  His eyes are puffy and red rimmed, his cheeks stained with tears while he lays ass up on the bed and leaks come all over the sheets.  He’s thoroughly debauched and used, and he was supposed to be making it good for Grindelwald - not falling to pieces and aching to be held.  He’s broken, useless, failing even at this. How could he expect to be anything more when he can’t even handle laying here and getting fucked?  A sob bubbles up from his chest, and try as he might he can’t hold it back.

“I’m s-sorry,” he chokes out, trembling with the effort to keep from ruining things further.  “I w-wanna be good for you, I - I’m sorry sir…”

“Shh.”  Grindelwald soothes him with a gentle hand on his temple, and Percival craves his touch.  “A whore like you can’t help it. Just give in, don’t fight. _Du bist so schön, meine kleine Schlampe.”_

His tone is firm and reassuring, and the contrast to how he made Percival feel only minutes ago is dizzying.  He doesn’t know what to think, so he ends up not thinking much of anything at all.

“Why don’t we play a game, _ja?”_ he suggests, and Percival nods, only half aware what he’s agreeing to.  He makes a little mewl of protest when Grindelwald’s hand leaves him, but Grindelwald just shushes him and shifts to set a black case on the bed beside him.  That must be the thing Grindelwald got from the closet, but Percival has no idea what it contains. What had he said about a game…?

“You’ll like this, sweetheart.  You’re going to be so good for me, aren’t you?”

Percival nods again, watching transfixed as Grindelwald flicks open the latches on the case and raises the lid.

Inside, nestled within a bed of protective foam, is an array of five glass plugs.  They’re beautiful, perfectly shaped with ribbons of color swirled through each one, and Percival doesn’t even want to think about how much a set like that costs.  

But their value and their appearance isn’t what makes Percival’s breath hitch in his chest.  No, the thing that makes his eyes widen and his heart pound is their _size._  Each plug is bigger than the last, the smallest starting out with a bulb a little bigger than a man’s cock.  And the largest…

Percival closes his eyes.  It’s bigger than a fist. It’s like something that would be in a porno, some extreme video on the internet, but not in real life.  There’s no way it would fit inside him, it’s not possible. He’s here to get fucked, that’s the deal, not to do - that. He can’t.

Grindelwald’s hand falls on his back, and Percival realizes he’s trembling again.

“Hush darling, what’s wrong, hmm?  You haven’t even heard the rules yet.”

Percival can hear the smirk in Grindelwald’s voice even through the soothing words.  He wants to curl in on himself, but he doesn’t dare move. He doesn’t dare do anything Grindelwald doesn’t tell him to.

“For each one you take, I’ll give you a little bonus.  Twenty dollars, each time I fit one up inside you. Doesn’t that sound good?  If you take them all, that’s an extra hundred. All you have to do is lay there and let me stretch that sloppy fuckhole.”

Percival shivers beneath Grindelwald's hand.  Why is this even happening? He makes it sound so easy, so simple, but it's _not._  

Or… maybe it is.  He thinks of all the groceries he could buy with another hundred dollars, and maybe it’s not so much to ask after all.  And maybe - he would have to take them all. He could take two or three and that would still help, he could do that He opens his eyes to look at the case again, each plug bigger than the last, and turns away to hide in the pillows.

Grindelwald chuckles fondly, as though Percival has done something adorable.  “We'll start with the smallest one, you can take that easily. It's easy money darling, you don't have to do anything.”

He doesn't wait for Percival to respond.  From the corner of his vision Percival sees Grindelwald lift the first plug out of the protective foam, hears him lube it up and all too soon, before he has time to think or react or do anything at all, he feels it - cold, smooth glass pressing against his anus.

Grindelwald teases him with it at first, rubbing the slick tip around the outside of his hole and watching the way he shudders and jerks.  Percival just takes it, because Grindelwald is right - he doesn't need to do anything for this, he just has to let it happen to him. He can feel Grindelwald’s eyes on him, watching his hole stretch around the glass as he starts to press inside.  The plug is thick and solid, without any of the give that a cock has, and it forces Percival’s body to yield.

He can take something this size easily, yet Grindelwald goes slow.  He presses in until Percival is stretched around the widest part of the plug, his ass trying to suck it the rest of the way inside, and makes Percival wait.  He uses it to thrust shallowly, breaching him again and again, pushing in to that widest point and then stopping, pulling back out to circle his twitching rim, and doing it all over again.

Percival moans, and eventually he can’t stop his hips from twitching in frustration.  The glass slides against him so smoothly, cool and slick against his insides, and fuck, he doesn’t know how to handle being teased when he can’t even get properly aroused.

His hips rock backwards, trying to fuck himself on the toy and whimpering as he does so.  “Please,” he begs, “please may I have it sir, I - I ache so bad, I need it, _please…”_  It’s what Grindelwald wants to hear, that’s why he’s saying it, it doesn’t matter whether or not it’s true.

“Oh _baby,_ you ask so nicely.  Are you all empty inside?  You need a nice big plug to fill you up good?”  Grindelwald’s voice is like overripe fruit, so sweet it starts to taste like poison.  Mockery drips from his words, but Percival is too far gone to care so long as Grindelwald is happy.  He’s here for Grindelwald’s enjoyment, and the sick curl of humiliation in his belly doesn’t matter at all.  The way he aches to be touched, to be kissed - it doesn’t matter.

“Yes, yes, please,” he manages, his voice a gasp.  Grindelwald places a palm on the small of his back to keep him in place and the touch scorches him.  He writhes even beneath Grindelwald’s firm hand and yet he continues to hold him on edge, every last drop of urgency seeming to have evaporated after he got off.  Now, Grindelwald has settled in to play.

Percival’s vision is blurred with tears.  He begs, he cries, he wants to be Grindelwald’s good whore and feel the stretch in his needy hole, but he _can’t._  No matter how much he pleads Grindelwald takes his time, seeming content to lazily swirl the tip of the plug inside him, pressing in an inch or so before retreating.  It’s maddening, and it’s out of his control.

Eventually, there’s nothing he can do but accept it.  With a shuddery sob his muscles relax, body falling loose on the bed, knowing that nothing he does will matter.  He doesn’t know what Grindelwald wants, it’s all mixed up in his head, his hole throbbing with sensitivity and clouding his thoughts.

The moment he exhales, the desperate tension easing out of him in defeat, Grindelwald presses the glass bulb past his tired rim and lets it nestle deep inside him. He gasps, eyes widening - the stretch is just as good as he hoped it would be, aching but not hurting, and the glass sits heavily inside him.

“Did you figure it out?” Grindelwald murmurs, twisting the plug inside him and making his whole body roll.  He tugs on the base, pulling it out to the widest point and letting go to watch Percival’s body suck it back in.  “What you want doesn’t matter. You’re mine.”

“‘M yours,” Percival mumbles, his lips not quite cooperating.  A heavy weight has descended over him, blanketing his body, his limbs, his mind, keeping him slow and docile.  His eyelids flutter, tears drying up as he sinks into the haze. It has him, pinning him under while waves of submission roll over him, leaving him with no desire to fight or struggle at all.  He has no control over his body. Nothing he does will change that. So instead, he lets himself be swept away.

Grindelwald fucks him so well with the plug that it’s easy to lose himself in it, sinking down until there’s nothing left in his head but the sensation of the glass sliding in and out, stretching him, taking him, opening up a space deep inside.  

If the next plug weren’t cooler than the last, not yet warmed with the heat of his body, he might not have noticed the difference.  He moans as it enters him, long and drawn out and desperate, too far gone to care what noises he makes. It’s good, filling him better than the last one even though it still fits inside him easily.  Grindelwald takes care to let him feel the widest point, fucking him thoroughly until he can’t even feel the stretch anymore. His hole craves something bigger.

His mind falls quiet with the constant, deep fucking Grindelwald gives him.  Somewhere along the way he realizes it must be exactly what he needs. His body wouldn’t accept it so easily otherwise, wouldn’t have opened up and relaxed like this.  He’s lucky, really. Lucky that Grindelwald knows what he needs and is willing to give it to him. He feels a passing twinge of guilt at that, because he’s the one who’s supposed to be giving Grindelwald what he needs - he’s getting paid, Grindelwald shouldn’t have to take care of him.  But what Grindelwald is doing feels too good for him to protest, even if that makes him selfish. He’s being stretched and filled so well, so perfectly, that all he can do is be grateful.

His hole aches and quivers with tingly pleasure.  It sinks deep into his muscles, spreading from nerve to nerve, and the more the pleasure permeates him the more his dick throbs.  His balls hurt as his cock strains and fails to harden, remaining soft and limp in its metal sheath even as he feels so, so good. He pants, gasps, doesn’t even try to hold back his little moans and whimpers - when Grindelwald bumps the plug against his prostate he mewls, back arching and toes curling.  He loves being full, he loves the glass against his slick insides, and he never wants it to stop.

But it does.  Grindelwald pulls the plug out of him in one brutal movement, and Percival chokes.

 _“Aah!_ Ahh, oh, p...please, I... I need...” Percival doesn’t have the strength to beg, his words lost to breath.  He is so open, his hole fluttering weakly, and he hates it and loves it all at once. A shiver races down his spine when Grindelwald touches him, petting and caressing his anus, stroking his soft, lax rim.  He barely feels it when Grindelwald slips a finger inside.

“So close, sweetheart,” Grindelwald purrs.  “Just one more left to take. Be a good boy, let me stretch out that hole of yours.”

It takes Percival a moment to comprehend Grindelwald’s words.  One more… one more plug? He’d lost track, he didn’t realize, how can there only be one left?  He didn’t think he could take them all, but it had been so easy. Maybe even this last one - it had seemed so big, but maybe Grindelwald has already broken his hole in enough that he can do it.  He squirms to think about it, heat pooling low in his belly.

And then it’s happening, Grindelwald presses the lubed up glass against his entrance, and Percival’s body yields for it.  His eyes roll back when it breaches him, stretching him wider than he thought was possible. His mouth opens on a moan, too preoccupied with feeling every centimeter of the plug slide inside him, opening him up wider, _wider,_ to have any awareness of the image he makes.

He didn’t know this could be done to him.  He didn’t know this was what he needed.

Even with how loose he is it still aches and burns, every little movement setting off shockwaves and forcing his sloppy hole taut.  Grindelwald presses in, _in -_

The widest point breaches him and his body pulls it in, welcoming the heavy glass inside and squeezing down.  It hits his prostate and sets off sparks behind his eyes, rolling waves of too-much pleasure that only intensify as Grindelwald angles the plug to grind into that hypersensitive spot.  Pure electricity arcs through his veins, his cock pulses, and the world dissolves around him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To any readers who speak German - apologies for any terrible translations. I did as much research as I could, but I'm sure I've still gotten some things wrong. I welcome corrections if you'd like to give them!


	3. Chapter 3

Percival approaches consciousness slowly.  His limbs are heavy, his whole body warm and glowing, fucked out and content, and he’s so very tired.  Moving is unthinkable, his blood too thick and slow for it to be possible, and there’s no reason at all why he would want to.  It’s much better to lay limp and relaxed in this cloud of pleasure, held under and lulled into obliviousness. His thoughts are so heavy, settling down into the depths of his mind until everything is smooth and blank and blissful, and he doesn’t want for anything at all.

He smiles a little at the feeling in his ass - something big and smooth thrusting into him fast and easy, making the most obscene squelching sounds as it does.  It leaves him gaping each time it’s pulled out, his rim sagging and hungry before he’s stuffed full again. He didn’t know his body could do that, and a tiny hint of something like pride flickers at the edge of his mind that he could take something so big so well.  It must be the plug, that bulging glass which had seemed so huge before, but Grindelwald fucks him easily with it now - it doesn’t even ache. From time to time he feels his hole flutter in a feeble attempt to squeeze around it, trying to hold onto it and suck it deeper inside, but his muscles are too tired, too well fucked, to make a real attempt.  With the oversensitivity it’s almost too much, but he can’t get enough of the tingly aftershocks that dance through his body.

There’s something wet against his cheek, and he realizes vaguely that he drooled all over himself as he was fucked.  He giggles, finding the thought funny.

“Sweetheart, there you are.”

_“Mmh,”_ Percival responds.  Grindelwald’s words rouse him slightly from the depths of bliss but he’s still pleasantly delirious and content, happy just to be fucked sloppy while his mind floats.  His thoughts are completely intangible, just wisps that drift through his mind before being swept away in a current of sensation. Yet he loves listening to Grindelwald’s voice - deep and rich and so in control, guiding him along to where he needs to be.

“You came just from having your ass stretched, did you know that?”  Grindelwald’s voice is laced with amusement, and beneath it, an undertone of something darker.  Percival’s brow creases slightly, trying to figure it out - he can still feel the metal wrapped around his dick, keeping him soft and utterly impotent.  But he _had_ come, he… he’d come while soft. The pieces click into place and he makes a small, confused noise at the realization. That - he’s never done that before.  It makes him feel funny to think about. He’d heard about guys who could do that, but he’d never… he hadn’t…

Grindelwald twists the plug within him, and suddenly Percival is much more concerned with the shivery feeling of being filled than with Grindelwald’s words.  His body is submerged in an ocean of pleasure, rolling over and through him, washing away all those difficult thoughts, and it feels so _good._

“ _Scheiße,_ you’re just gone, aren’t you?”

Percival giggles again, his head blissfully clear.  He’s right here being fucked, how could he be gone?

“Oh, my darling whore.”

Grindelwald pulls the plug out of him and Percival whimpers, his enjoyment turning cold as he realizes how empty he is, how hollow.  He wants the plug back, he wants to be filled up and used, he _needs_ it.  Why would Grindelwald take it away?  Percival’s hips roll and jerk in desperation, begging for that thick plug back inside him; anything to ease the emptiness, anything to make him feel whole.

Yet Grindelwald denies him.  Percival can feel the intensity of his gaze, his focus as he squeezes his ass, pulling him open wider and making Percival feel like he’s about to come apart at the seams.

“You’re gaping,” he says, his voice thick with an emotion Percival is too distraught and needy to identify.  Lust, perhaps - or awe. “Try to close up for me baby, go on.”

He does, he tries, but his body won’t cooperate.  His hole is too well fucked, and the best he can manage is a weak flutter.  

“Fuck,” Grindelwald growls.  “You’re just ruined now. Stay right there - stay still for me baby, there’s a good boy, hold on.”  Percival’s breath catches as Grindelwald leans away from him, and there’s a dangerous moment as he hears Grindelwald moving around behind him when he teeters on the brink, with absolutely nothing to keep him grounded in his own mind.  Everything’s spinning, slipping sideways, he needs Grindelwald to tell him what to do -

He blinks in surprise at a bright flash of light, followed by a click.  It happens again, and again, Grindelwald’s hand falling on his ass and spreading him open even wider so he can see right up inside him, and the world settles but Percival doesn’t quite understand.  

“Look at me, _Schatzi._  You can do it - no no, don’t get up, just turn your head.”  Percival tries his best, pushing his chest up a little and straining to look back over his shoulder, right into Grindelwald’s camera.

_Oh._

Something stirs in him at that, some hint of discomfort, but then Grindelwald has hands on him again, telling him how good he is, how pretty, and it’s so easy to let everything else slip away.  Grindelwald rolls him onto his back and Percival lets his legs fall open, earning a hum of approval that sends tingles up his spine. It gives Grindelwald the perfect view up the line of his body, from his gaping hole and his locked up cock, to his pink, peaked nipples, to his wet lips and glazed eyes, staring hazily down the bed for the space of a few more clicks.

It feels good to obey, but he realizes quickly that he doesn’t like the camera very much; there’s not enough touching involved.  His anus still aches with emptiness, his skin buzzing with need, and a small plaintive whine escapes his throat as he grasps at the sheets for purchase.

Grindelwald is on him in an instant, cupping his jaw and pinning his wrist above his head,

“You’ve been so good for me tonight,” Grindelwald murmurs against his cheek.  “So wonderful, the perfect little slut. Come here, baby. Just relax.”

Grindelwald stretches out on the bed beside him and squeezes his shoulder, encouraging Percival to roll into his arms.  He does so gladly, nuzzling in against Grindelwald’s chest and hiding his face in his shoulder, making a tiny squeak of contentment when strong arms pull him flush to Grindelwald’s skin.  It’s warm and cozy, and his ass is still uncomfortably empty but with Grindelwald holding him he thinks he can bare it. He snuggles closer to the body in front of him, taking comfort in Grindelwald’s warmth and strength.

Grindelwald smells like sex, and sweat, and rich cologne.  It’s a heady scent, and one Percival wants more of - he squirms desperately closer, letting himself be enveloped and held firm in Grindelwald’s embrace.  It makes him feel small to be held like this, small and vulnerable and weak, and he wants to squirm and hide with how much he likes it. Grindelwald pets his hair, one hand tightening at the small of his back, and Percival has never felt so safe and protected.  He wants it, he - he wants to know that even if he struggled, he couldn’t get away.

He makes a meaningless little noise when Grindelwald nips at his earlobe, sending tingles along his nerves, and he feels the vibration in Grindelwald’s chest when he chuckles.  Grindelwald touches him gently, carding fingers through his hair and massaging his scalp until shivers of pure bliss race down his spine. Their legs tangle together and Percival feels a soft touch at his rim, Grindelwald’s fingers slipping inside him without resistance.  He can barely feel it, but it’s still so nice to have something inside him - to have his soft walls stroked and caressed with such a gentle touch.

It’s impossible to think while Grindelwald’s touching him like that, so slow and intimate - as though they were lovers, as though Percival really were his.  Time slips as they lay there together, slow and fluid. Percival thinks he might have dozed, but he isn’t sure; he isn’t sure about anything other than Grindelwald’s body.

“You’re my good boy.  My perfect boy.”

Percival glows with the praise, a sleepy, happy smile spreading over his face.  “Wannabe good,” he mumbles in agreement.

“You are.  You try so hard out there, don’t you?  But what you really need is someone to fuck all your problems away.  That’s why you make such a good whore. You’re so good at letting me help you.”  Grindelwald’s breath is hot against his cheek, his whispers filling up Percival’s mind.  “I want to give you another little bonus. Will you let me? Two hundred dollars if you just keep being my perfect little darling.  One more thing for me, hm?”

Percival nods easily, he’ll do anything.  He wants to be perfect and it’s so much money, why would he ever say no to anything Grindelwald asked?

“That’s it.  Two hundred dollars for your last name, sweetheart.”

Percival’s brow creases.  That… he shouldn’t do that.  He doesn’t think he should tell.  He can’t quite remember why but it seems important somehow, some corner of his mind nagging at him not to say.

Grindelwald must feel his hesitation.  His fingers slip out of Percival’s hole and leave him empty again, the rhythm of their bodies faltering, and Percival just wants it back -

“I thought you wanted to be good.  After all I’ve done for you… come now.”  Grindelwald twists fingers into his hair, tugging back just enough that he can press their lips together.  Percival’s mouth falls open instantly, offering himself to the kiss. Grindelwald licks into his mouth sweet and slow, flicking their tongues together, suckling on his lip, until Percival is absolutely dizzy with it.  “Tell me,” Grindelwald says, breaking the kiss to murmur the words against his lips. He keeps his grip on Percival’s hair, keeping him from chasing it, keeping him still, even though Percival wants nothing more than to be kissed like that forever.

He looks into Grindelwald’s glittering blue eyes, and tastes the sweetness of him still lingering on his lips.

“Graves,” he breathes.

Just like that Grindelwald is kissing him again, hard and hungry and possessive, crushing him into the mattress and stealing his breath away with the force of his passion.  Fingers slip back past his anus, playing with his insides and leaving Percival no chance to think, no chance to question, no awareness of anything at all save for how good it feels to have Grindelwald pinning him down.

“Percy Graves?” Grindelwald asks between kisses.

“Percival,” he says, ending on a squeak when Grindelwald nips at his throat.

“Say it.  Say your name.”

It’s hard to concentrate on anything, and Percival wishes they could stop talking and get back to kissing.  “Percival Graves,” he says quickly, and is rewarded by Grindelwald pulling him impossibly closer, their bodies intertwining as Grindelwald holds him.  It’s so good, so perfect, they fit together so well, and Percival doesn’t want to be anywhere but here.

The heat and passion of Grindelwald’s kisses slowly settles back into a soft intimacy, quieter but somehow no less intense.  He tucks Percival in against his chest, rubbing his back and murmuring soothing nothings that make Percival float. Exhaustion settles over him, but it’s okay; while Grindelwald’s here he’s safe, he can let go and drift away into the warmth and dark.  He snuggles closer, needy and eager, so grateful to be here.

“My darling boy.  My darling Percival,” Grindelwald murmurs, and they’re the last words he hears before he falls into the deep embrace of sleep.

 

 

Percival wakes slowly, becoming aware of himself and his body only gradually.  Everything feels strange. The room is kept dark by heavy curtains which rob him of his sense of time.  He feels as though it is no longer night, but whether it is early morning or nearly afternoon he has no way of knowing.  His body aches, limbs heavy and mind slow, his ass wet and open as something thrusts in and out of it.

That’s when he becomes aware of the man at his back.  One knee is pulled up to his chest and there’s an arm secure around his waist, keeping his limp body in place.  He’s being fucked.

Memories of the night before surface in his mind.   _Grindelwald._  Letting Grindelwald have him - no, _giving_ himself to Grindelwald, wholly and willingly.  An ache in his cock and balls forces itself into his awareness, and fuck - the cage.  It presses into his tender skin, not even allowing him the simple reflex of morning wood while Grindelwald’s thick, hard length pounds into him from behind.  He’s soft, and sore, and utterly exhausted.

Percival closes his eyes again and waits for Grindelwald to finish using his body.

He gives no sign that he notices or cares that Percival is awake, fucking him without regard for Percival’s pleasure.  It’s as though he were using Percival to jerk off, as though his ass were simply a convenient place to spill him come. Percival keeps his body limp and his breathing slow, listening to the wet sounds Grindelwald’s cock makes inside him.

Eventually Grindelwald’s thrusts lose their rhythm, his grip tightens, and Percival feels him come deep within his body.  

He takes it.  He lays still when Grindelwald pulls out and wipes his cock off on his ass, rolling out of bed and leaving him uncomfortably open and loose.  He’s wet and sticky, with something - probably come - dried and pulling at the inside of this thighs. Grindelwald’s fresh release trickles out of his hole, making the mess worse.  He wants to crawl out of his skin. He wants a shower. He wants to go home.

It couldn’t be more different from how he felt last night.  He remembers the warmth, the care, how he’d been so special and wanted and - fuck him - _loved._  

He’s an idiot, and he hates himself.

He can hear Grindelwald moving around the room behind him; the creak of the bathroom door, and a moment later, the shower running.  Percival shivers. The hot water would feel so good, washing away the filth of sex and debauchery as though it were never there, the gentle spray massaging his skin.  Picturing it only makes him feel worse, nestled as he is in the filthy sheets. There’s no reason he has to stay in the bed, no reason he can’t just get up and clean himself off, but he can’t seem to make it happen.   _Get up,_ he thinks, and yet his body remains still.

After long minutes the water shuts off, and he hears Grindelwald leave the bathroom to dress.  When he walks around the bed and into Percival’s line of sight he’s immaculate, every detail of his appearance in place, from his bespoke suit right down to his slicked back hair and his pocket square.  And Percival lays naked in the bed.

Grindelwald throws open the curtains, letting morning light flood the room and spill across the bed.  He turns to face him, and a slow smile spreads across his face when he sees Percival looking back.

“Good morning, Percival.”

Percival opens his mouth to respond, but the _good morning, sir,_ he’d meant to say sticks in his throat when he realizes just what Grindelwald called him.  Not Percy. _Percival._

He remembers.  He’d given himself up for a kiss, given Grindelwald exactly what he needed to own him.  A cold weight settles in his stomach. Such a simple thing to say, and impossible to take back.  What has he done? Why would he say those things, agree to those things?

“What did you do to me?” he manages.  Grindelwald’s eyes glitter with cold amusement as he sits on the edge of the bed, brushing a stray lock of hair from Percival’s forehead.  He barely contains his flinch.

“Dear boy.  You did it to yourself.”

Percival shakes his head _no,_ but he can’t hold Grindelwald’s gaze.

“I have business in the city this morning,” Grindelwald continues bruskly.  “Housekeeping comes at nine, be sure you’re gone by then. And let’s see...” Grindelwald reaches for his wallet, retrieving it from the nightstand and flipping it open.  “Your usual rate plus, what was it, fifty for the cage and twenty for each of those plugs you took?” Grindelwald counts the bills out of his wallet as though the sum were nothing, as though it weren’t about to make the difference between a roof over Percival’s head and starving.  He folds the thick stack of money in half, then pauses. “Oh yes, and two hundred for your name.”

Percival’s eyes sting.

Grindelwald moves as though to rise from the bed, and panic lodges in Percival’s throat.  “Sir…”

Grindelwald looks back at him with a raised eyebrow, the perfect picture of surprised inquiry.  But the line of his mouth betrays him; the slight curl of his lips, a subtle smirk not quite manifesting.  Grindelwald knows exactly what Percival is going to ask, but he will make him do it anyway.

“Please sir… the key?”  Humiliation curls tight in his gut.  He understands in that moment that Grindelwald doesn’t have to give it to him.  He could walk out and leave Percival here with his dick locked in a cage, still owned by him, still helpless, impotent, and there would be absolutely nothing Percival could do to stop it.  Grindelwald lets it sink in, lets Percival feel Grindelwald’s power over him for a long minute, before he smiles and reaches into his pocket.

“Ah, that’s right.”  He holds the little key between his fingers - such a seemingly inconsequential thing.  “Are you sure you want this? You took to your cage so well… maybe you’d be happier with someone else controlling you.”

“Please,” Percival begs, his voice a whisper.  He can’t meet Grindelwald’s eyes, he can’t stop the tears that well up at the humiliation of begging Grindelwald to give back the most intimate piece of him.

Grindelwald sighs, and regretfully slips the key into the fold of bills.  “Very well.”

Grindelwald advances on him, planting his knees on either side of Percival’s hips and pressing into his space until Percival falls back onto the mattress, caged in and trapped.  He grips his jaw and leans over him, pressing his thumb into his mouth and stroking his tongue, taking his time to feel the soft wetness. In one swift movement he bends down to claim Percival’s mouth with his own, licking deep inside while Percival just lays there and lets it happen - he can’t pull away, he can’t kiss back.  It’s like he’s not even here.

Grindelwald’s tongue is warm as it explores his mouth, his breath fresh and his teeth sharp as he nips and bites.  By the time he pulls back Percival’s lips are red and swollen, sensitive, and plush from the kiss. The taste makes him sick.

He doesn’t move.

“Open up, darling.”

Percival does, parting his shining lips for Grindelwald even though he doesn’t understand why.  Everything is distant, nothing in the room quite real except for the guilt and shame clawing at his chest.

With gentle fingers Grindelwald tucks the thick fold of cash into his mouth, nestling it past his teeth and onto his tongue.  He presses his mouth closed with two fingers under his chin and releases his jaw, allowing Percival to turn his head away in a futile attempt to hide the tears that spill down his cheeks.  He feels degraded, used - even while he’s being paid he’s just Grindelwald’s toy. The money tastes disgusting.

Grindelwald smiles down at him with the look of a man who knows he’s won.

“I’ll see you next time I’m in New York, Percival dear,” he says, and the threat sits heavily in his words.  Without a second glance Grindelwald turns and leaves the bedroom, and a moment later Percival hears the front door shut.

The change is abrupt; Grindelwald is done with him.  He’s alone, finally. He did his job, he’s been paid, it’s all over.

Emptiness wells up within him.  He spits the money out in disgust, trying hard not to think about how deeply Grindelwald violated him - how Percival let him.  The thought curls around the edges of his mind, dark and insidious, that it doesn’t even matter. He’s a whore, Grindelwald used him as he was meant to be used, and by his very nature it doesn’t matter at all how Percival feels.  The thought hurts, but it feels true. He’s just a whore; Grindelwald had every right, and that’s just how it works.

He sits there in Grindelwald’s bed and lets the tears fall.

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be a long one - settle in. I don't have an update schedule, but the next two chapters are written and just need editing, so hopefully they shouldn't take too long :)
> 
> Find me at [ mercurial-tenacity.tumblr.com ](http://mercurial-tenacity.tumblr.com/)!


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